The DEWW Conspiracies
by Wonk
Summary: To-do list: 1. Buy sugar 2. Bake muffins 3. Infiltrate the enemy. Hermione takes on the Death Eater War Widows, a lethal, cookie-baking, non-profit organization, with a little help from a friend. One-shot. SSHG.


A/N: I think this is the most fun I've had writing a fic. Ever.

This is not a sequel to B&tB, but completely stand-alone. Thanks to Dani (whispertothewater) for betaing.

**The D.E.W.W. Conspiracies**

"I don't know if I'm very comfortable with this."

"That's good, Severus. That means there's a bit of uncertainty there," Dumbledore replied, the customary twinkle in his eyes. "We still have a chance, then."

"Not bloody likely," he said, slumping ever lower in his armchair. The reflection from the dying fire danced mockingly in his eyes. "I'm not about to subject my girlfriend to those…women. They're evil."

"That's a bit harsh." Dumbledore chuckled from the chair next to Severus and added, "Narcissa was always very good at ceramics. A woman who can fashion dolphins out of bits of clay can't be thoroughly sinister."

"They weren't dolphins," Severus replied darkly. "They were models of the privates she castrated from her ex-boyfriends."

"Oh." Dumbledore swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was dry. "How…creative."

"What exactly are they, anyway?" Severus replied, a hint of a whine in his voice. "A book club? A group that fund-raises for a worthy cause? Or do they just exploit non-profit organization laws while carrying on evil deeds behind the scenes?"

"All of the above, actually. I believe they provide funds to orphans for private school and university tuition."

"That disgusts me."

"Me, also. I wonder if the poor children are aware that their schooling is being paid for by a group of blood-thirsty widows bent on revenge?" Dumbledore conjectured.

"I doubt that they would care."

"True." Dumbledore chewed on his lip pensively, his thin, wrinkled fingers gripping the arms of the chair. "Will you ask Hermione? She's much more likely to listen to you than me."

"Are we talking about the same Hermione?" Snape said, throwing a mini-firecracker from a Weasley Wizard Wheezes box on the end table into the fire, watching with satisfaction as the old man jumped in surprise from the small explosion. "Since when does she listen to me?"

"You _are_ her mate. You must have _some_ influence."

"Ha."

"Come, my boy, the war is over. We only have a little cleaning up to do. Hermione is more than capable of lending a hand."

Snape grumbled something indiscernible.

"It wouldn't be completely dangerous."

"Bellatrix would eat her alive."

"Not literally, I hope?"

"With her, you can never tell."

"Well, Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "Tell her about it. She doesn't have to accept, but it is ultimately her choice."

"I don't want her to go," said Severus. Dumbledore watched as he fell into an unattractive sulk, his dark eyes half-lidded. "They'll kill her or they'll turn her into…into _them_.Why can't we send Tonks?"

Dumbledore shuddered. "You are joking?"

Snape sighed.

"Hermione has been rather restless lately," Dumbledore interjected gently. "Wandering about the house with nothing to do…leave her to idle thought too long and she'll start thinking of things."

"How horrible," Snape said with a sharp roll of his eyes. "She never does that. And we shouldn't allow her. How dare a _woman_-"

"You didn't let me finish." Dumbledore smiled, as if he was hiding a little secret and dangling it over Severus's head like he was a toy poodle. "You know how women think when you leave them to their own devices, left to ponder their relationships…"

Severus narrowed his eyes, the nostrils of his hooked nose pinched with suspicion. "I don't follow."

"Marriage, Severus. And _babies_." Severus's eyes grew wide in horror. "_Bay-bees_."

"Be quiet, man!"

"You know that it's true, Severus," he said, a grin of satisfaction at the younger man's terror spreading across his face. "You should give her something to do. Otherwise, who knows what she'll start trying to talk you into…"

"Severus said that I'm supposed to be sent on a mission?" Hermione queried as Dumbledore ushered her to the dining room table of 12 Grimmauld Place. The morning light filtered cheerily in through the finally clean windows, bathing everything and everyone in a sickly, yellowish glow. Her hair was still wet; she didn't like being coerced downstairs before she was ready. An interruption of her daily routine was a severe infraction of Severus's rights to her room. Even if it was for a mission.

"Here," Bill said gruffly, sliding a pamphlet across the table at Hermione, a slackened frown on his face. She took it curiously. It was a disgusting display of pastel colors, clip art, and flowery print. The header on the front said "D.E.W.W." in horribly bright pink script. It offered no explanation of the acronym on front; it was just a name and a collage of various spring flowers.

"There's a picture of Bellatrix on the inside," Remus Lupin said with a slight sigh.

Hermione opened to the first panel and squinted at the figure with hooded eyelids and a brilliant bleached smile. "Red hair suits her."

"It does, doesn't it?" Ginny cut in, smirking. "The best hair color, I always said."

"It's a group of Death Eater wives widowed by the war," Remus explained, crossing his arms in front of him on the table. "Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange…" His face darkened noticeably. "They hide under the guise of a non-profit Muggle organization to support various charities…"

"That's nice," Hermione replied blandly.

"…while spreading prejudiced views and being involved in the disappearances of several Muggles that they lure into their lair," Bill added with an uncharacteristic break in his voice. His wife Fleur elbowed him in the side, erasing the smarmy look from his face.

"So what do you want me to do?" Hermione said, dropping the brochure on the table. Ginny craned her neck catch a glance at the photographs while Harry tried to grab her away, as if the brochure were a bomb waiting to explode. "Besides reading this thing over for information?"

"They're having a bake sale," Severus replied, the corner of his mouth lifted in irritating amusement as he leaned intimately toward her from across the table, his eyes burning into hers with the expression that he usually cornered her with in the study when he was feeling particularly frisky. "Could you make muffins?"

It was thus that Hermione found herself walking into Kensington Community Centre just outside of London, wearing a pantsuit (a respectable gray, as she refused to wear pink), her hair - now blond and worked into disgustingly perfect ringlets - up in a French twist, and carrying a warm tin tray of chocolate muffins protected by foil. Her eyebrows had been plucked (much to her chagrin), and the shape of her mouth and nose had been changed by an overzealous Tonks. She was only thankful that Severus hadn't seen her, in case he would want her to stay this way. Looking in the mirror, she had the automatic urge to hate herself because of her prettiness.

It was an impressive modern building, painted all in white, with tall French pane windows allowing the sunlight of an impeccably clear day to pour through. The place was swarming with women in sundresses and matching jumper sets (sometimes, horribly, put together in a clashing set). The tables were manned by thin women, all looking to be in their thirties or forties, wearing smart, knee-length dresses, a tasteful hint of jewelry, wide, fake smiles, and the typical aristocratic arrogance that wafted through the hall like bad perfume. It was difficult to tell them apart, but they all seemed to have different hair colors; there was Narcissa Malfoy, the trademark blonde, Fredrica Macnair (who had black hair that Cho Chang would envy), and, easy to spot in a crowded room simply because she was Bellatrix Lestrange, was the now red-headed Bellatrix Lestrange.

Bellatrix's table was surrounded by several Muggle women, mostly middle-aged, who were all staring at the plates of treats with furrowed brows as if they were some great puzzles to work out. The goods on the table ranged from sugar cookies to brownies to donuts. Thankfully, there were no muffins. With one hand supporting the tray and one hand on the waistband of her skirt, where her wand was secured (just in case), Hermione sidled through the gathering crowd and made her way up to the front of the table. She faced Bellatrix squarely and presented the muffins like a peace offering.

"I brought muffins," Hermione said quietly to the plate, her eyes downcast, looking at the tinfoil that she had hastily put over the top to keep the baked goods warm and clean. She hadn't made them; actually, Molly had. She didn't feel the need to be hypocritical and accidentally poison all of her customers when the reason she was coming here was to prevent that in the first place.

"Why, thank you," Bellatrix said, her voice sugary sweet. "And you are?"

She lifted her head up and said the first name that popped into her mind. "Stacy?" She immediately brought the pitch of her voice down so it sounded like less of a question, but it only made her sound prepubescent. "Stacy," she said again, her voice steadier and more resolute.

Bellatrix lifted a curios eyebrow over her half-lidded right eye. "Are you…?"

"Yes, I am."

"And you would like to…?"

"Yes, I would."

"Very good. If you wouldn't mind so much, could you go talk to Narcissa? She's the blond one over there." She pointed unhelpfully in a vague direction. "I'm a bit busy right now."

Hermione nodded and began to walk away, only to be stopped when Bellatrix called her fake name three times. Hermione had already forgotten it.

She really should have been better prepared for this. She was supposed to be _clever_ for goodness sake.

"Wait," Bellatrix said as Hermione spun around in confusion. "Leave the muffins."

Empty handed, the young woman formerly known as Hermione walked away from Sirius's cookie-selling murderer and worked her way through the flocks toward Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, widow of Lucius Malfoy and mother of Draco Malfoy, who seemed to not be doing as well on sales as her sister was. Most likely because she was wearing the sour expression that Hermione remembered from the Quidditch World Cup years ago. When Hermione approached, Narcissa caught herself and immediately broke into a brilliant, if somewhat pained, smile.

"How may I help you?" she asked. Her voice was very similar to her sister's: smooth, sickly sweet, but lacking the generous amount of confidence.

"I'd like to join D.E.W.W.," Hermione said in a hushed tone, bending forward toward Draco's mother and fixing her with what she hoped was a piercing stare.

"Oh," Narcissa said in a tone that wasn't very secretive at all. "Okay, fine. Our next meeting is tomorrow night, 6:30, at Bellatrix's flat. Do you need the address?"

"Oh…erm…" Hermione stammered, slightly stunned. "Yes, I think so."

Narcissa quickly scribbled the address, a location somewhere in Sussex, on a piece of paper she had ripped from her bright yellow legal pad and handed it to Hermione, who quickly stuffed it into her purse next to her wand.

"You must have brought something," Narcissa said, fidgeting as she shifted her unsold baked goods around. "Bellatrix doesn't usually let new people in unless they bring something. What did you bring?"

"Muffins," answered Hermione blankly. "Chocolate."

"Oh, goody," she replied with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Could you possibly bring more tomorrow night? They're my favorite."

"I can't believe I'm baking muffins for ruddy Narcissa Malfoy," Molly Weasley complained loudly as Hermione sat at the table that night, glancing through a book on Proper Witch Etiquette for Dinner Parties and Other Important Social Events, clad in her dressing gown and fuzzy slippers. Severus sat next to her, eyes drifting down every so often, reminding Hermione of Crookshanks on a summer afternoon, when all the dust moats had been chased and flies eaten. She patted his hand, which he initially and mistakenly took as a sign that she was ready for bed, but of course, he was left disappointed. He had promised that he would stay up with Hermione until she went to bed, but it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon.

"Don't be afraid to let anything slip in, Molly," he said, his voice groggy, as he rubbed a limp hand across his eyes. "She'd look particularly fetching with an extra set of breasts."

"Don't be silly, Severus," Mrs. Weasley scolded with a hint of a smile. "We don't want to draw any suspicion toward Hermione. It would be a disaster."

"Fun, though," Hermione added absently, taking a bite out of a cookie she had confiscated earlier and turning the page.

"On her elbows," Snape concluded, sliding a pleading hand onto Hermione's wrist. "Hermione, are you ever going to go to bed?"

She ignored his request. "Is it true that I have to present the head of the household with a dead goat upon arriving?"

"How old is that book?" Severus asked, snatching it from her hand. "That's a bit disgusting."

"Says the Slytherin. But yes," Hermione agreed. "It would be horrible to get goat blood all over my new pantsuit."

"You're in the 'ancient traditions' section," he told her, flipping further ahead. "I thought you could read…honestly, will you ever go to bed? Your brain is deteriorating."

"Why do you care so much?" Hermione shot back, tugging the book from his stronger grip and bringing it back to the protective loop of her arms.

"Oh, I don't know," he answered dryly. "I wonder."

"Unlikely. Go ahead, go to bed."

Severus shot her a reproachful look, got up from the table, and clumped sleepily out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room.

"Poor man," Mrs. Weasley said with a bit of a smile. "Leaving him in the lurch like that."

"I am not 'leaving him in the lurch', thank you," Hermione retorted, finishing off the cookie and sucking the last bits of chocolate from her fingertips. "You know what they say about the cow. The milk and such."

"Of course, I know," Mrs. Weasley replied, though considering the number of children the Weasleys had, Hermione didn't really think that she could relate. "Can't help but feel sorry for him, though." She scooped a handful of something into the mixing bowl. "I really hope that someone there is allergic to peanuts."

"You brought them!" Narcissa squealed in glee as Hermione stood, waiting patiently, at Bellatrix's door with the large tin of chocolate and peanut butter muffins in her hands. She had decided to go with a more casual approach this time, settling instead on a knee-length skirt and a smart white blouse. She wore her blond corkscrew curls loose, hating the look of them cascading over her shapely shoulders. She felt the overwhelming need to pummel herself. She had to admit that the string of pearls around her neck was a bit much, but was relieved to see that both Jaina Rookwood and Fredrica Macnair were wearing identical sets. Hermione was also wearing a lapel pin in the shape of the Union Jack, which had been charmed by Severus to pick up nearby strains of conversation.

"Patriotic," Hermione had commented as Ginny - in charge of costume - pinned it to her collar.

"Yes," Ginny had replied. "Patriotism is all the rage."

"Stacy's here!" Narcissa chimed merrily as Hermione followed her, trembling slightly, into a blindingly white living room. "And she brought muffins."

"Delightful," Bellatrix drawled from a white lounge chair, her black t-shirt with the Dark Mark in a venomous green on the front making a stark contrast with the cream-colored leather. Two other women were there, the one Hermione recognized as Fredrica Macnair, the former Ministry Executioner's wife, and another woman that Hermione vaguely remembered passing at the bake sale. "Welcome to my humble home, Stacy." She gestured to the walls and the tall, elegant windows. "What do you think of my living room? I just redecorated."

"It's…erm…very bright."

"Yes, well," Bellatrix said, putting her martini aside and plopping a bowl of perfectly oblong and perfectly green grapes into her lap. She pried one off of the stem and rolled it between her thumb and finger. "I thought it would be a nice change. Make everyone think I'm pure and virginal."

"So," Hermione said nervously, sitting down on the couch as if she wasn't quite sure that she was allowed to sit there. The girl that she didn't know sat to her right and Bellatrix sat directly across from her; she picked up her martini again. Hermione kept the muffins in her lap until Narcissa pried them away and took them to the kitchen. "You…erm…all lost your husbands in the war, yes?"

"Yes," Narcissa added pensively, not seeming at all to lament her loss, as she walked back into the room through the swinging kitchen doors. "More or less."

"It was a tragedy to lose Rabastan."

"Rodolphus," Fredrica corrected her quickly.

"Rodolphus," Bellatrix said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Right. I always had trouble keeping them straight."

"Miss Lestrange," said Hermione carefully, trying to roll her memorized lines through her mind. "I was rather curious about this organization. So you mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Call me Bella," Bellatrix replied. "And go right ahead. That _is_ what you're here for."

"All right." Hermione suddenly wished she had her paper in front of her. She could practically hear Severus spitting insults into her ear. "What does D.E.W.W. stand for?" she asked. That was the first one, wasn't it?

"Death Eater War Widows," Narcissa answered, leaning back in the chair she had taken next to her sister. "We weren't able to come up with anything better, so we're just hoping people who don't know what we really do will think it refers to our unearthly glow and perfect skin tone."

"That's my second question. What do you really do?"

"What we're meant to do," Fredrica said with a bit of a sinister smirk. "Avenge our late husbands' death while raising money for ourselves. Every so often we'll finish off a few Muggles for a bit of fun."

"Don't you fundraise for other people?"

"Yes, we give money to Muggle children in need so that they can pay for tuition," Bellatrix answered, wearing a matching smirk. "We usually curse the money with a hex that makes their beloved pets die prematurely or gives them acne scarring for the rest of their lives."

Hermione managed to hold back the well earned 'That's horrible!' and managed a chortle in reply.

Bellatrix popped another sparkling jewel of a grape into her mouth. "So, Stacy, did you lose anyone in the war?"

The way that Bellatrix called her Stacy, Hermione was suddenly unsure that she had gone with a suitable pseudonym. "Gregory Goyle," she said quickly.

"Poor dear. Didn't he pant horribly during love-making?"

"A bit," Hermione said quickly, somewhat startled. "Yes."

Bellatrix looked upon her with unfathomable sympathy. "Poor dear," she repeated.

"Yes, his father did, too," Narcissa said with a slight shake of her pretty head. When her sister looked at her curiously, she pursed her lips and said, "We were young. It was before I married Lucius. And before I found out that we were related. Not so distantly, either."

Hermione flinched but the others seemed nonplussed. Apparently, accidental incest was commonplace in Pureblood families. Disturbing.

"You know who I wouldn't mind a romp with?" Bellatrix said, leaning in secretly. "Remus Lupin."

Hermione swallowed.

"Oh, yes, Narcissa drawled, while Mrs. Macnair laughed a bit. "And he only wants to blow you to bits and feed your remains to the wolves. I see a definite possibility of a loving, warm relationship."

Bellatrix just shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "I can bring him around."

Hermione was trying very, very hard not to roll her eyes. She made a mental note to turn Bellatrix over to Remus, first.

"Oh!" Fredrica said, as if she had just remembered a juicy bit of gossip, which, knowing her (sort of), she probably had. She flicked her raven black hair behind her shoulder. "Did you hear about Severus?"

Hermione's spine suddenly went rigid.

"No, I prefer not thinking about that ass," Bellatrix said, mouth drawn tight as her martini refilled itself.

"Well, it's actually quite funny." Flick, flick. Did the woman ever do anything else? "I hear he's dating a _student_."

Suddenly very interested, all the ladies leaned forward, wide-eyed. Hermione was trying very hard to keep from turning an embarrassing shade of red.

"Well, former student, anyway." Everyone's face fell. "But!" she spat in an attempt to redeem herself. "But…I heard that they slept together while she was still in school. What a scandal, eh?"

"Delicious," Bellatrix said dryly. "For a minute, you had me excited."

"But it _is_ interesting!" Fredrica protested. "Her name is…what is it? Har…something? Harriet?"

"Hermione," Narcissa said, taking a sip of her margarita, her eyes remaining open and unblinking above the rim of the glass. "She was in the same year as Draco."

"So that would make her…what, twenty-two?"

"Approximately."

"We all know that Severus has commitment problems," Bellatrix said matter-of-factly. "I seriously doubt that they've been dating for five years."

Fredrica shrugged helplessly, knowing that she was losing her friends' interest.

"Is she pretty?" The other woman who Hermione had been told briefly was Jaina Rookwood asked limply. It was the first time Hermione had heard her talk; she seemed to have established herself as the shy one of the group.

"No," Bellatrix said. "I don't know. Maybe. I haven't really seen her up close. Only time I've ever seen her was when I was trying to kill her, so I probably wouldn't be the best judge."

"I always thought that Severus liked men," Narcissa said with an evil smirk.

The others all laughed like birds. Sinister birds. Hermione faked a chuckle, which came out sounding strained and nervous.

"Well, for all I know, she is one," Bellatrix said when everyone had calmed down. "Like I said, never got a close look."

They all laughed again, but Hermione couldn't and just glowered dangerously at the pseudo-red-head. Screw Remus, Bellatrix was hers.

"Gregory Goyle?" Severus said with a lifted eyebrow and a horrible smirk as Hermione arrived back at 12 Grimmauld Place, fists clenched at her sides and face glowing an unnatural shade of red. "You won't let me even touch you and you gave him a bit of a shag?"

"I just said the first thing that popped into my head," Hermione defended herself. "I was about to say Draco until I remembered that Narcissa was his mother and that he's not even dead."

"That could have warranted a rather interesting explanation."

"I need coffee." Hermione pushed past him and into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was waiting with a ready pot and the _Daily Prophet_ spread out in front of her. Molly looked up when she and Severus entered and lifted another eyebrow. If one more person lifted an eyebrow at her, Hermione swore that she was going to rip it off.

"Please don't ask," Hermione pleaded pathetically, plopping in a chair.

"Oh, no," Mrs. Weasley said, turning a shade of red that explained where Ron's coloring came from. "I wasn't even thinking about it."

"Right." Hermione reached for the pot but Severus grabbed it before her and poured her a cup before pouring his own. This was a surprise. "Is there any reason you're being nice to me?"

"Because I love you. And I'm just proud of you, that's all."

"No, you're not," Hermione objected softly, blowing on the top of her coffee. "You want something. Something more than usual."

"Why do you assume that whenever I do something nice for you I want something?"

"Because you always want something," she replied, taking a taste and not finding it to her satisfaction. She dropped a spoonful of sugar in. "Does the fact that they were questioning your sexuality not bother you at all?"

"Why would it? It's not as if they're right."

"You still want something."

"Nothing but your company."

"Stop sucking up and just tell me."

"So who was at the meeting?" he asked, taking a long sip from his own cup of coffee. "There was another person there who spoke only once. I didn't recognize her voice."

"There was…" Hermione said, chewing on her lower lip like she tended to do what she was thinking intently. "Jaina Rookwood. She didn't seem_ too_ horrible."

Severus squinted in arrogant disbelief. "Killed seven immigrant Muggles, sold their remains as fertilizer."

Hermione suddenly felt very sick. "Oh." The coffee wasn't very appetizing anymore. "Well, you've heard what they have to say. They've basically made a confession. What are we going to do about it now?"

"Wait," Severus answered darkly, shying away slightly as if expecting her to hit him.

"What do you mean 'wait'?"

"I think I'm going to go clean up the library a bit…" Molly mumbled as she left the room as quickly as her legs could carry her.

"What do you mean 'wait'?" Hermione repeated. "Do you know what those women are like? _They_ are the kind of people that served as the reason why my only friends growing up were male! They are absolutely, utterly _horrible_."

"Apparently, talking about doing evil deeds isn't enough for the Ministry to convict them," Severus said, his voice slightly, only slightly, apologetic. "We have to catch them in the act of _doing_ evil deeds."

"But that could take _ages_!"

"I seriously doubt it would be ages." Catching the frightened expression on Hermione's face, he slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest so that her cheek was pressed uncomfortably up against his right pectoral muscle and she was half hanging off of her chair. "It will all be worth it. Wouldn't you like to see Bellatrix burn?"

"More than anything. But I'd rather burn her sooner than later."

"Patience, my dear, is a virtue."

"Then why don't you dress up in a cocktail dress and sell cookies for them?"

"Don't tempt me."

"You frighten me."

"Thank you. I do try."

Hermione wriggled out of his grasp and composed herself neatly on her chair. "They're planning a charity dinner."

"Are they? I didn't hear that. Was that said before or after you dumped wine down your shirt and flooded the charm?"

"I wasn't about to drink that. They could have poisoned me!"

"That's what potted plants are for, Hermione." He sighed as if he was dealing with someone very, very dense. "Tell me about this dinner."

"It's going to be held next Friday night at some hall in Stratford. I have the address. It's a two-hundred pound per plate meal."

"I really hope you get free food," he said, flinching.

"Of course, I'm a member," she sniffed, wiping feebly at the red stain that she hadn't yet bothered to vanish from her shirt. She had ducked when Bellatrix tried to do it for her.

Severus furrowed his eyebrows, staring in concentration at the wine stain on her chest, looking as though he was contemplating a different thing entirely (which was unusual). "I'm guessing there's going to be a toast?"

"Most likely."

"So she's probably going to poison everyone attending. Except for her little friends, of course."

"She would really kill that many people at once?"

"If there's anything that Bellatrix enjoys more than murder, it's synchronized murder. She delights in order and symmetry. She'll probably make a pretty pattern with the bodies."

"She's a bit mad, isn't she?"

"What, you haven't noticed?"

Hermione let out an agitated sigh. "So what am I going to do?"

"You're going to go. Test the wine for poison. Report back to us, and we'll report to the Ministry so they can put a stop to this."

"Will you come with me?" she asked, so pathetically that he almost immediately gave in. He clenched his teeth as she put her hand on his knee.

"No," he managed to grunt out. "People would be a bit suspicious if you brought a date to a widows' charity dinner, wouldn't they?"

She squeezed his kneecap, her big brown eyes worried as she looked up at him and scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "What if they poison my cup?"

"Just promise me," he said, drawing his arm around her shoulders again and holding her close. "That you'll find a plant this time, and not the front of your blouse."

Since the Union Jack plan hadn't gone quite as smoothly as they had hoped, Severus, Dumbledore, and Remus developed a piece of jewelry that might better survive the dinner party environment: they had charmed one of Hermione's crystal earrings, agreeing that she couldn't do much to ruin that unless she forgot about it and got into the shower (which they knew she was too responsible to do…hopefully).

Hermione was feeling a bit uneasy as she walked into the hall, her ankle-killing high heels clicking, blond curls bouncing. She was feeling a bit paranoid and self-conscious; she was quite sure that her face hadn't quite rearranged itself the way it was supposed to, and hoped fearfully that no one would notice.

"Hi," Jaina Rookwood, the timid homicidal maniac, said shyly as Hermione entered the kitchen. All four of the women were in there, sitting on stools and sipping champagne from elegant flutes, and she felt small hands push her legs apart and brush the inside of her knees. She grabbed on to the counter to keep her balance and felt her legs being shoved aside once again.

"House Elves?" Hermione asked, seeing the faint outlines moving about the kitchen, finally seeing that the meals seemed to be preparing themselves while the other women sat around and drank. Another stool appeared beside Jaina for Hermione. She took it hesitantly.

"Yes, sorry," Narcissa apologized. "We had to put a Disillusionment charm on them so no unsuspecting Muggle would wonder what the hell was running around the kitchen. You don't mind, do you?"

"No," Hermione said, her voice warbling; her stool wobbled dangerously as an elf pushed past to open a cupboard. "As long as they don't cause me to crack my head open."

"Nothing we couldn't fix," Bellatrix said in a stoic tone, gazing at her thoughtfully over her champagne flute.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly useless and wishing she had her own drink—not to drink, but to keep her hands occupied.

"No, everything's been taken care of by the House Elves," Fredrica answered. She suddenly squinted at Hermione, pushing her black hair back from her eyes. "Did you do something to your nose?"

Hermione's hand flew to the bride of her nose, touching it tenderly. Crap, she _knew_ something was wrong.

"I…erm…" she stammered, looking for a lie. She wished she was as good at making up excuses as Ginny was. "…ran into a cupboard door. It was rather embarrassing. Broke it in two places, afraid I didn't do a very good job at mending it."

"Aw, I'm sorry," Bellatrix said in an unapologetic tone as everyone else murmured their sympathies. Bitches. At least they believed her.

"Anything special planned for tonight?" Hermione asked, folding her hands in her lap and playing with the silver bangle around her wrist.

"Only the usual," Bellatrix said with a secretive smile while everyone's gaze fell into their glasses. An uneasy feeling suddenly churned in the pit of Hermione's stomach.

They didn't trust her.

"Ah," she said uneasily, nodding her head. "It sounds like it's going to be fun."

"Oh," Bellatrix sighed, her smile stretching wider now. "It will be."

It was difficult to work in a broom closet. Before this day, Hermione had never had the opportunity, and soon discovered that doing complicated and thorough experiments to test for poison in drinks was not an ideal thing to be doing in a broom closet. The only things broom closets were good for were for holding brooms and for snogging that you didn't want to go too far. Other than that, useless.

Crammed up against a foul-smelling mop, a push broom, and a feather duster that hung from the wall, she went through the pained process of detecting if any of the wine she had stolen from the kitchen was laced with poison. It did smell funny. She didn't think that tasting it would be a wise choice. It was a long and agitating process, but when her results came through, Hermione knew that it was worth it.

"This is Hermione reporting back to Headquarters," she whispered, holding her discovery in front of her. The beaker that held the wine and the potion she had concocted glowed a gentle green and set an eerie light to her eyes. "Hermione to Headquarters. The test results are conclusive and have been found positive. I repeat, wine has been found to contain traces of toxins. Back-up expected soon."

After she finished her report, she was left with disconcerting silence. Wasn't the earring supposed to do _something_ to let her know that they had received her message? Grow hot? She was quite sure that the charm that they had put on it would be bi-directional in some way.

She reached up with a gentle hand to swat at it and noticed that it was missing from her ear.

She swore loudly.

Suddenly, the door creaked open to reveal Narcissa Malfoy standing with her back to the bright florescent lights, her blonde hair glowing like an angel's, her expression perplexed.

"Stacy?" she said. "What on earth—"

Fortunately, Hermione had been able to cast a vanishing charm on the beaker and its contents before the door had swung fully open.

"I lost my earring," she said truthfully. "I had gotten a broom out of here earlier and thought that I might have lost it then, but I got locked in."

It was a poor excuse, especially for someone who had mastered _Alohamora_ in her first year, but an excuse was an excuse. And fortunately, Narcissa was dense enough to believe her.

"Oh," she said dully. "Well, I hope you find it."

"Thanks."

_Slam_.

Narcissa had closed the door on her, even after her explanation that she had been locked in. Hermione waited for the woman to remember her error and open it back up again, but all she heard was the click of her heels as she walked away. Either she was angry and suspicious of her, or she just was incredibly stupid.

A stream of light poured out the end of Hermione's wand as she searched the ground of the broom closet for the sparkling crystal earring that had fallen from her ear. It was nowhere to be found.

She creaked open the door and made sure that no one was around, then emerged from it fully, her face a shade of bright red. She straightened her clothes, looked around, and clomped through the maze of round, neatly decorated tables toward the kitchen, scanning the floor for her missing piece of jewelry. Nothing.

"Bellatrix," she said upon entering. Bellatrix and Jaina were still sitting in there, the same drink glasses in their hands (which had probably been refilled several times), seeming to still be talking about the same mundane subjects. "Is there a fireplace connected to the Floo around here, somewhere?"

"There's a fireplace in the Fireside Room," she pointed to a swinging door opposite of where Hermione had entered. "It's the first door on right in that hallway. It's only connected to the Network for today, so it's a bit small. Think you'll manage?"

Hermione managed a polite smile. "Of course. I just forgot something. Have to see if the help can get it for me."

She felt their eyes burning into her as she walked across the kitchen, stumbling slightly as another pushy House Elf pushed through her legs. She heard Jaina giggle. She turned around and smiled weakly at them as she pushed through the door and emerged on the other side.

A few moments later, she was on her knees in front of a small fireplace, her head off at a different location entirely.

The library at Grimmauld Place was empty, except for the books that Hermione had gone through at least twice. The door was open, though. Remus was the first one to stumble in when he heard her screaming at the top of her lungs.

"What happened?" he asked, kneeling down in front of the fire. "You haven't talked for ages."

"I lost it," Hermione answered, trying to brush it off as no big deal but knowing that she had done something very, very stupid. The dark look that came over Remus's kind brown eyes confirmed that fact. "It fell out of my ear," she explained. "I didn't even notice until I was in the broom closet…"

Severus soon came trailing in, looking a bit frightened. He collapsed onto his knees beside Remus, his eyes wide and his face paler than usual.

"Hermione…" he breathed. "Thank Merlin."

"What's going on?" she asked. "I lost the earring," she added. "But the wine came out positive for traces of poi-"

"They know, Hermione," Snape explained. "Wherever you lost your earring, it's where Bellatrix was. She knows who you are."

Hermione was dumbstruck. "But-but…how is that possible?"

"She may be mad," he answered. "But she's intelligent. She knows. Whatever you do, don't eat anything."

"But aren't you going to come?"

"We've contacted the Ministry but it's taking forever to get through to the Minister," Remus said, his tone apologetic.

"Well, how bloody helpful is that?" she huffed.

"Aurors will be there as soon as possible," Severus said. "I trust you can take care of yourself, Hermione, until they come. And please do." He sounded unusually serious. "For my sake and yours. And if they don't come, I will."

"Goody," Hermione said in a tone mocking that of Narcissa's. "See you later, hero." With a pop, her head vanished from the fireplace.

Each place was filled, each plate topped with a silver dome and each glass filled with the poisoned wine. Hermione sat in her seat next to Narcissa, who seemed to have developed a grudge against her in the past half hour. Hermione had a feeling that it had to do with her usurping Narcissa's title as "the blonde". It wasn't really an obvious thing; the only hints were when Narcissa would pull viciously on one of Hermione's curls while her head was turned and would whistle something that sounded like "Taps" suspiciously when Hermione turned back to see what had attacked her head.

Bellatrix was obsessively looking at her watch, waiting for the exact second when she had planned the dinner to start. Severus was right; she was anal.

Hermione kept looking at the windows, the doors, her stomach churning more and more as she waited for the Aurors to arrive. Where _were_ they? They should have been there by now, _before_ now. She was running out of time.

"You know what I feel like doing?" Bellatrix said brightly from the center of the table. "I want to start a war. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"The goblins seem to be itching for violence lately," Narcissa answered. "Perhaps we could provoke them with faulty peace treaties?"

"It's more fun just to insult their mothers."

"True."

"Sh, it's time to start." Bellatrix stood up in front of her seat and beat her fork against her wine glass, flicking her head so that her shiny curtain of red hair fell behind her shoulders. Everyone fell quiet. The men stared, enraptured. Their wives looked unhappy. Narcissa looked on the verge of shouting, "Stop staring at her! I'm the pretty one!" but kept quiet.

"Welcome, everyone," Bellatrix said loudly, her voice ringing clearly through the hall. "First of all…ah-ah, don't touch that glass until the toast. It's bad luck." She hastily put her own down guiltily. "First of all," she repeated brightly. "I'd like to welcome you all to our Charity Dinner. All proceeds tonight will go to helping destitute orphans in both our countries and those around the world." There was a polite round of applause. "Also, all of us on the committee are currently single and open to possible relationships. My name is Bella and I enjoy luring innocent men to my lair, melting them into puddles, and licking them up. Call me." This was met with a more enthusiastic round of clapping and some whistling while several men asked 'round the table for Bellatrix's phone number. Poor men, they didn't understand that she meant it literally, and in that order.

"Second of all, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the newest member of D.E.W.W., Stacy Goyle." She turned toward Hermione with her typical lifted, mocking eyebrow. "Stand up, Stacy."

Hermione obeyed, lifted a hand, and immediately sat down again. A collective feeling of bemusement lifted through the crowd.

"And third of all," Bellatrix said, picking up her wine glass again. It was a wonder that the woman wasn't falling over drunk by now. "I would like to propose a toast." She lifted her glass into the air in the manner of a famous statue. "To destitute orphans around the world!"

There was a confused mutter of "Destitute orphans around the world" and some other variants as the guests lifted the wine to their lips. Hermione was on the verge of standing up and shouting "NO!" when someone took the job of Public Distraction into their own hands.

The door burst open and in rushed a small boy with red hair, about five years old, wearing tattered clothes and with black smudges all over his face. Hermione would have assumed that he was a chimney sweep if child labor was legal. But she knew better.

"Look everyone!" she shouted, pointing at the small boy as everyone dropped their glasses of wine back to the table. "It's an orphan!"

There was a collective gasp as all the women rushed forward to Bill and Fleur's oldest son's and, switching immediately into the "I'm in public so I must pretend that I care" mode (though she had to admit, some of them looked genuinely concerned), ready to coddle the poor boy's brains out. He wrestled out of the grip of a particularly large woman who had clamped him to her large bosoms. The men watched anxiously from behind the female crowd, soon becoming bored with the display and turning to each other to discuss the current football score.

Suddenly, Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see that Severus was standing behind her, smirking slightly, his hair tied back and looking rather dashing, even in the full-on sunlight. Beside him were four uniformed Aurors, all who had the other four women in full body binds. Severus muttered something and Hermione watched as the wine in every single glass vanished into nothingness.

A handsome Auror nodded at Hermione and said, "Thank you, ma'am. We've been looking for evidence against this group for years."

Hermione couldn't help but blush. "You're welcome."

Unfortunately, Bellatrix could still talk. Hermione could hear her babbling as the handsome men and his three friends dragged them away; "You know, I could do incredible things to you…"

"We should probably get the decoy back to his parents," Severus said mildly, watching as an old woman that looked like the incarnation of bad breath licked her thumb and began to scrub stubbornly at a spot on the child's cheek. "I'm not quite sure they know he's missing."

"If we leave everything here the way it is, will other people take care of it?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Sure," he said, slipping his hand into her back pocket. She quickly swatted it away. "I'd be more than happy to go home."

They'd only been home for about five minutes and Hermione was sitting on the couch, massaging her aching feet as Severus sat in the armchair across from her, arms crossed, watching her with what appeared to be irritation.

"Hermione, come here."

Wary of what it could be that he wanted, Hermione walked slowly toward him from across the room. Instead of motioning for her to sit in his lap, like he usually did when he felt like teasing her, he got up, took her hand, and led her toward the kitchen.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying to pry her hand away.

"Don't be finicky. I just need your help."

"With what?"

"Well…" He looked a bit uneasy and turned away, pulling a strand of black hair behind his ear. On the counter laid a tin of muffins, and she could smell their rich chocolate scent drifting toward her through the air. It made her slightly sick. "Molly was baking muffins this morning, and I'm afraid that she lost her wedding ring in one."

"That's terrible!"

"It is," he solemnly agreed. "Help me find it."

"Why couldn't you just look for it yourself?"

"Because." He didn't offer an answer, which made her a bit angry, and walked toward the counter, grabbed the muffin tin, and led her toward the table where they both sat down. Snape set the muffin tin in front of them.

"Fine," Hermione said, reaching for her wand.

Severus steadied her hand. "Tried it. Didn't work."

"How did _accio ring_ not work?"

Severus shrugged and Hermione sighed, grabbing the muffin nearest to her and ripping the top off.

"Don't waste food," Severus scolded. "Molly would be devastated if she knew that you were tearing apart her work."

"Since when do you care?"

He didn't answer. Defeated, Hermione shoved the top layer of muffin into her mouth. It would have been good if she wasn't so bloody sick of them.

"Be careful," he said, and it was then that she noticed that he hadn't even touched a muffin but was watching her with profound interest. "Don't swallow it."

"I thought I was helping you, not sitting here and filling my body with sugar while you watched."

He sighed and grabbed a muffin, taking a half-hearted bite out of it, but still watched her.

She finished the muffin with no luck. Groaning, she moved on to the next one.

By the time she was done with the third, she had given up. Screw Molly and her feelings; if Hermione found her ring, she wouldn't care about the fate of her bloody muffins. And she probably wouldn't appreciate Hermione puking all over her clean floor, either. Hermione also noticed that by this point Severus was looking particularly worried.

"Would you bloody _help me look_?" she huffed, noticing that he was still chewing on the same muffin, eyes wide.

"All right, fine." Together, they began to tear the muffins apart, scattering crumbs and chunks of chocolate cake across the table. By the time all of the muffins were in crumbs, there was still no ring to be found.

Severus swore loudly. "What if you ate it?"

"I think I would know if I ate it."

"Not by the way you shoved down that first one."

"Are you criticizing my eating habits?"

"No, I…wait." He picked up his discarded muffin and tore it in half, revealing a silver diamond ring lodged in the chocolate, the band covered in chocolate crumbs. It was no wedding ring. It was an engagement ring. "Oh," he said, his voice slightly faint. "The pan must have been switched around."

Hermione didn't say anything. She couldn't. She couldn't find her voice.

"Erm…" He looked positively bashful, an expression she had only seen him have one before: when he had asked her on their first date. His pale face blushing a healthy shade of red, he stammered out, "Hermione, you wouldn't mind marrying me, would you?"

Hermione couldn't help but break into a smile. "After you told me that I eat like a pig?"

"Yes, I suppose that's the situation."

"All right, why not?" she said, her voice strained as she tried to joke, trying to keep the tears spilling from her eyes. She impulsively leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. Pulling away, she saw that he had turned to fumbling the ring out of the muffin. Wiping it off and blowing away the remaining crumbs, he slid it on to her chocolaty finger, quite clumsily, and dropped her hand.

"That was a bit of a cruel way to propose," Hermione said, still smiling, as Severus recomposed his usual control over his emotions and looked up at her bravely. Her stomach churned in protest.

"I thought you'd like it," he said, smirking.

"When do you want to get married?" she asked, leaning forward again and pressing her lips to his mouth before he could answer, teasing him a bit and feeling him groan. Wearing her own smirk, she pulled away and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"As soon as possible," he sighed wistfully.

_Ha_! Hermione couldn't help thinking. _Maybe the D.E.W.W. meetings did teach me something after all. Eat your heart out, Bellatrix._

19 June, 2003

_Dear Members and Supporters of D.E.W.W.,_

_It is my unfortunate duty to announce that all events and charity duties have been postponed indefinitely due to circumstances beyond my or any other member's control. However, we are still taking donations to our cause. If you would like to support us, please reply to this letter with a checkin the denomination of your choosing, made out to "D.E.W.W." I suppose it is not necessary to say that the monthly newsletters will no longer be sent out._

_Also, congratulations to Stacy, also known as Hermione Granger, for her recent engagement to Severus Snape. I wish her many years of marriage to him, for he is an insolent bastard that will give her nothing but headaches and ugly children. Good luck, Hermione._

_Best Wishes,  
Bellatrix Lestrange  
President of D.E.W.W.  
_

The End


End file.
